


Woad to Ruin

by MotleyMoose



Category: King Arthur (2004), Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Violence, But Not Much, Gen, Gore, Typical Canon Violence, some mild language, tiny pinch of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotleyMoose/pseuds/MotleyMoose
Summary: Dean and his knights join Y/N and the woads to defeat the Saxons.





	

Thick, oily smoke rolled lazily over the wet greenness of the open field. A single line of warhorses with armored riders stood in front of waving banners as the great gates of Hadrian’s Wall were pulled open, allowing a swarm of Saxon invaders through.

Dean looked to Charlie, who shifted in her saddle and let loose an arrow from her longbow. It flew silently, cutting through the heavy air with ease. A breath later, they heard a muffled _thwok_ and a grunt as the arrow met a target.

“Signal a volley from the woads,” Dean ordered.

Charlie held up a fist and whistled, and the sky turned dark with bolts. An uproar followed as the arrows hit their marks.

A humorless smile spread across Sam’s face as he shifted forward in the saddle. “Let’s go take care of the rest, shall we?”  
……………….  
Atop the hill, hidden among the trees with the rest of her clan, Y/N watched as the Roman knights charged into the dense smoke. Even with her keen eyesight, she was finding it difficult to locate Charlie in the black fog. She was so focused on finding the redheaded knight that she didn’t hear Donna approach.

“Do not worry, sister. You too will have your fill of Saxon blood.”

“I do not think there is enough of it to quench my thirst,” Y/N replied with a grim smirk. Invaders from the North had left her orphaned at a young age, and it was proving to be impossible to fight the berserker blood that flowed in her veins. The flames wanted to consume her, to unleash her fury upon the Northmen and avenge her family’s murders. Her hands were itching to cleave an axe through her enemies skulls, and her tongue yearned for the taste of Saxon blood. The berserker rage was pulling her deeper and deeper into its embrace, slowly eating away at the walls she had built to control it.

Donna lightly touched Y/N’s shoulder, giving her a worried glance before unsheathing her daggers. “The battle will soon be upon us.”

The small band of riders broke through the thinning smokescreen, the success of the first attack evident in their postures. Dean split from the group and rode to confer with Bobby while the others fell into formation, awaiting for the next stage of battle. Their horses were chomping their bits, tossing sod as they pawed violently at the earth. Blood and gore splattered their chests and sides, and their eyes were white with excitement. The knights themselves seemed calm and collected. There was a strange quietness hanging between them, though, and all of the joviality and exhilaration had dissipated.

In the distance, a marching cadence had started. All along the edge of the forest, the warriors nocked arrows and drew weapons. Y/N could feel the flames of her berserker rage expanding greedily within her chest as red edged her vision.

“Not long now,” Donna whispered.  
………………………..  
Y/N lost one of her short battle axes when she joined the fray. The crush of bodies made it all but impossible to get a good swing, so she left it buried in a Northman’s chest in exchange for his short sword. Another fur-clad warrior was upon her in a heartbeat, and she had just yanked the sword free from his neck when she saw Donna collapse.

“Donna!” she shrieked, darting through the bedlam towards her sister, felling anyone who crossed her path. A red haze all but consumed her vision as she fought to get outside of the chaos, her axe and short sword a blur of sharp steel and death.  
………………………..  
The Saxon stood over Donna triumphantly as he raised his broadsword to deal a final blow. Donna dragged herself backwards, lips curled as she growled menacingly, her hands blindly searching for anything she could use to defend herself. Her fingertips grazed the head of a crossbow bolt, and she desperately palmed it as she pulled herself into a crouch.

The Norseman laughed and took a step closer. “Filthy woad scum! We will rid this la- _oof!_ ”

From out of nowhere, Y/N tackled the Saxon soldier, driving her shoulder solidly into the middle of his back. Almost at the exact same instant, Donna had flung herself at him, stabbing at his neck with the bolt while clawing at his eyes with her free hand.

Roaring curses at the two warriors, the man stumbled, landing heavily on his face with Y/N and Donna striking his head and neck.

“Y/N, that’s enough!” Donna shouted as she backed away from the dead Northman.

Y/N was beginning to froth at the mouth, her eyes wide with madness as the rage overtook her. Her vision completely washed in crimson, Y/N’s only instinct was to kill, to _destroy_ the man that lay under her. She ignored the ache in her shoulders and chest as she repeatedly stabbed at the enemy with her dagger.

_Kill them… kill them all…._

“Enough!” With what little strength she could muster, Donna grabbed Y/N by the shoulders and hauled her off of the body. Y/N hissed, diving back towards the dead man. Enraged, Donna caught her by her hair, using the momentum to slam her to the ground.

Gasping, Y/N stared at her sister in shock. The anger began to ebb, and her eyes cleared somewhat. Trembling with exhaustion, she glanced to what was left of the Saxon and swallowed back bile. Very little of what was left of him was recognizable. Slowly, she picked herself up and sighed in relief. “Thank you, sister.”

“It’s what I do,” Donna coughed, leaning gratefully upon Y/N’s outstretched hand as she rose from her knees.

Handing her sister the short sword, she nodded as she quickly surveyed the battle. Not far from where they stood, she spotted Charlie and Sam back to back, fending off a dozen armed enemy soldiers. “Are you good?”

“I’ll survive.” Donna followed her gaze to the knights. “Go, they need you.”

Squeezing Donna’s hand in farewell, Y/N threw herself back into the chaos, her axe claiming as much blood as it could.   
…………………………...  
Y/N never made it to Charlie and Sam.

As soon as she re-entered the melee, she was set upon by two Saxons. One jabbed his pike at her gut while the other swung at her with a short sword. She was able dodge the sword and knock the pike aside, but not before the head of it grazed her hip, leaving a long, violent gash.

Y/N snarled and then laughed as the berserk rage came roaring to the surface, drowning out the pain.

Fueled by bloodlust, she spun, gripping the swordsman’s outstretched arm and tumbling him into his partner. She yanked the pike from the other Northman and took him out at the knees with the shaft before driving the head home into his stomach. Blood bubbled from this mouth as his hands automatically gripped the shaft of the pike. Y/N immediately whirled from him, blocking another attack from the swordsman as she pulled a hunting knife from her belt.

“Bitch!” he spat, lunging at her.

Y/N leapt aside at the last moment, sending him headfirst to the earth. Snarling, the Saxon sprung to his feet and froze, the large hunting knife burying itself into his chest. Gasping, he fell to his knees, mouth agape as Y/N approached. She took a fistful of his long hair, forcing his head back until he was staring up at the gray sky.

“Please,” he rasped, blood staining his teeth.

“My pleasure,” she sneered. Yanking the knife from his chest, she drew it swiftly across his throat. The Northman gave one last gurgle before falling backwards.

Laughing triumphantly, Y/N reclaimed her single short axe and the Saxon sword. Flourishing it to test the balance, she smiled menacingly at the Briton warrior standing in awe beside her, his own foe still writhing on the turf. “Come, brother. Let’s finish this.”

The clansman crouched low, his twin rapiers at the ready. Y/N followed suit, her back to his, as she beckoned to an enemy soldier bearing a mace.

“Want to play?”  
……………………….  
Four Northmen later, Y/N had lost sight of Charlie. She darted to and fro, helping out where she was needed. The Saxon numbers were dwindling, but they still had an army larger than Bobby’s own. For every woad they killed, two Northmen would join them. It was now a contest to see which side could survive the longest.

She was in the midst of a fight with Crowley, the leader of the Saxons, when an arrow came from out of nowhere, embedding itself in her leg. Another hissed after it, slicing her ear as it zipped by. Shrieking in pain and outrage, Y/N fell to one knee as she tried to keep her sword on guard and assess the damage.

Crowley cocked his head, watching Y/N with vulture-like intent. Y/N eyed him warily as she prodded the area around the leg wound, biting back cries when she found a tender spot.

“I am in no hurry to kill you,” Crowley drawled as he tapped the toe of his boot with the flat of his broadsword. “You’ve proven to be a fine warrior.”

Struggling to stand upright, Y/N faced the Saxon chief. Blood slowly oozed from around the arrow in her thigh, staining her leather trousers. She gripped her sword and gritted her teeth, ready to spring at the first sign of movement. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”

Crowley smiled benignly, his own broadsword now resting casually against his leg. “Did you really think your little band of tree-dwellers had much of chance against me?”

Spitting a gob of blood, Y/N returned the smirk. “Did you really think you could take our homes so easily?”

Furrowing his brows, the Saxon leader took a step forward, gesturing lazily with his sword. “This land, it is nothing to us. We just enjoy killing everything in our path.”

Y/N quivered angrily. Eyes locked on Crowley, she bellowed in fury, wildly swinging at him with her sword. He easily dodged her attack, smacking the blade from her grasp as his elbow slammed into her face. Falling to one knee, Y/N could feel doubt and fear at the edges of her berserker rage as the weariness and the pain hit her. She wiped at her bloodied face with a hand, eyes searching hopelessly for a weapon.

Taking a few ambling steps to her left, Crowley picked up her lost sword, appraising it. With a shrug, he tossed it in front of her and waited.

Befuddled for a moment, Y/N quirked an eyebrow at Crowley. She didn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him, but something about the way he was patiently awaiting for her to decide her fate seemed true. Gritting her teeth, Y/N broke off the arrow’s shaft as close to the skin as she could. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she slowly reached forward, snagging the hilt of the sword with her fingertips. She bit back a scream as she pulled it to her and used it to lever herself to her feet.

“Let’s finish this,” she growled. Her arms trembled as she raised the sword. Willing herself to move, Y/N stumbled sideways as she tested her legs. The arrowhead still deep within her thigh shifted slightly, causing searing pain to explode behind her eyes. A dark corona was overtaking her vision as she fought to stay upright and conscious.

Smirking mirthlessly, Crowley circled with her, keeping in step and watching her like a hawk. He noted the way she was swaying and how her blade dipped every time she took a step. There was little pleasure for him to kill someone who couldn’t fight back, but he could see there was still a spark of life in her.

Y/N cringed once more as she placed her foot wrong, jarring the arrowhead. She needed to act quickly, or Crowley would surely claim the upper hand. Inhaling deeply, Y/N steeled herself for the final assault.

Roaring her clan’s battle cry, Y/N launched herself at Crowley, the sword cleaving downward in a desperate attempt to disarm him.

Mildly shocked at her ferocity, Crowley swung his blade up to meet hers. Shoving forward, he forced her sword down, locking them together. He elbowed her hard in the sternum. Y/N grunted, dropping her sword as she staggered back. She was worn to her bones, and it was a miracle she was still was on her feet.

_It would be so easy to give up, to let the bastard end it…._

Suddenly, the berserker fury flared, giving Y/N renewed energy. Bellowing thunderously, she plowed into him and sent him sprawling on the muddy earth. As Crowley floundered, Y/N picked up his broadsword, weighing it expertly in her hands.

“Such a fine blade, maybe I should keep it” she mused.

Crowley mutely watched her as she limped closer, her eyes burning with an otherworldly flame.

Resting the point of it on his heart, she cocked her head. “Oh, but I’m sure you want it back.”  
…………….  
Most of the smoke had cleared by the time the battle ended. Two of the Roman knights had fallen during the siege, and their remaining brothers had prepared their bodies for burial. Charlie was among them, saying her last respects to the knights she considered family.

Y/N watched the small procession as she sat underneath a towering elm, a jug of mulled wine resting against her uninjured leg. She quietly waited for the ceremony to end, taking a pull every now and then from the jug. There was a muffled _crunch_ behind her, and Donna emerged from the forest, a warm smile tugging at her lips.

“Sister, I hoped I would find you up here.”

“I thought I would bid my farewells before rejoining Father. I hear most of the knights are returning to their homelands in a fortnight?” Y/N lifted the jug to her lips again, letting the warm liquid flow over her tongue.

Arching an eyebrow, Donna nudged her sister’s shoulder. “I know you aren’t here just for that.” She winked mischievously. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you and Charlie pine for one another.”

Shaking her head, Y/N laughed in disbelief. “Charlie? No, she can’t be.”

“I’ve heard talk between Dean and Sam. She definitely is interested.”

Y/N blushed, trying to fight back a grin. Peering at the small group surrounding the graves, she caught a glimpse of Charlie’s red hair shining brightly in the high sun. A warm, fluttery feeling spread through her belly and chest, and she sighed. “Maybe… maybe I’ll stay for a little while longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: King Arthur (2004), and its soundtrack composed by Hans Zimmer (Did you see what I did with the title there? Yeah, I love that soundtrack)


End file.
